


carried away

by joeri



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Dancer Felix Hugo Fraldarius, M/M, Slow Dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-10-19 19:15:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20662343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joeri/pseuds/joeri
Summary: sylvain teaches felix how to move slow.





	carried away

**Author's Note:**

> this was actually just supposed to be a short 500 word drabble for on twitter but opps we made to much

The training grounds vacant of all but a swordsman’s hurried footsteps, Sylvain slithered around the corner of a pillar, eyes zeroed in on his every move. Less like the grace of a dancer, Felix had all the mechanical gestures of one who’d studied the art of dance without embracing so much the _spirit_ of it.

Really, the professor had certainly subverted expectations by signing up Felix for the White Heron Cup, but if Sylvain knew Felix at all (that is, if seventeen years meant anything to the two of them) he knew that Felix was nothing if not a perfectionist. What he put his soul into, he sought to master. Even something as ‘fucking pointless’ as a dance.

Witnessing the two step, the mathematical glances Felix gave to his footwork and to his stance, Sylvain tucked his bottom lip into the clench of his teeth, pleasantly absorbing the earnestness—the calculated stare, the curious knitting up of his jagged indigo brows at his every mistake, the careless flow of his body. The moonlight above served as the only illumination, glistening off his slick limbs.

Sweat poured off his chin, off his elbows. Felix exhaled and plopped his ass to the ground, finished.

Sylvain crept into view. “Take five, Felix.”

Panting mad, arms draped over his upraised knees, Felix barely spared Sylvain a glance much less a word in reply. It wasn’t until Sylvain came within his eyeline that Felix bothered to even dignify his presence, blowing a sliver of hair that had slipped into his face before uttering a keen, “I’m fine, thanks,” as Sylvain crouched to his level.

“I saw you puttin’ in work. Y’know you don’t _have_ to win, right?”

Bouncing a bit on his haunches, Sylvain sat his chin in his hands, his elbows digging into his knees, and Felix said, “you look like a child.”

“And you look exhausted. Why not call it a night?”

“Because I didn’t _want_ this duty but I won’t let the professor down. If they picked me it’s cause they saw something in me, I guess.”

“They saw that you’re nimble on your feet,” clarified Sylvain, eyes rolling upward in thought. “I personally think that I’ve got more of the experience and charm we need to win, but you’re the more diligent sort, right?”

Smiling cruelly, Felix’s eyes squinted up. “Yeah, they know you’re a lazy fuck.”

“Hey now, this ‘lazy fuck’ came to give you some pointers. He can find a prettier night-time visit if his help isn’t wanted.”

“I didn’t ask for your help. Go be a slut.”

“Wow,” said Sylvain flatly, springing up to his full height before lowering his wrist for the taking all the same. “C’mon, get up.”

Turns out, Sylvain wasn’t actually going to take that as an answer. Felix eyed the extended invitation with the same enthusiasm as a jury duty slip. His lightly tousled hair, low-hanging bun swung on his shoulder as he pointed his chin away.

“I’m fine on the floor.”

“No you’re not, get up.”

“I’m not getting up. You’re not teaching me how to dance.”

“I’m not!” Sylvain shouted, laughing. “You _know_ how to dance, I’m gonna show you how to woo ‘em, knock em dead! Trust me.”

Wiggling his digits to and fro, Sylvain couldn’t fight his grin. It burned with an honesty he knew Felix could never decipher. The glow of the moon gave every plane of Felix’s face a certain softness, and when he glimpsed up at Sylvain with something of a curious glance, his unchapped lips, candy-cottony and velvet pulled into that sharp pout Sylvain had adored.

_Trust me._

“Fine, but no laughing or fucking around.”

“No fucking tonight, sir,” Sylvain said in a nod.

Felix took Sylvain’s hand, rolling his eyes.

…

“Slower,” muttered Sylvain, careful to not grow dizzy from the turns of Felix’s rushing steps; this was a dancefloor, not a battlefield.

Shoes moving in tandem, parallel to each other and in time, the two of them were locked at the hands and ribs, circling the training grounds with a speed rivaling what was necessary.

Every time Sylvain had managed to get them on the right track, Felix’s body carried all of its momentum into his next turn, leaving little time for the back and forth. Sylvain’s right hand splayed against Felix’s lower back, tucking him in close as they made another spin. His left one squeezed harder into the breadth of Felix’s right palm, watching as the chosen dancer came to a halt once their bodies narrowed into one another.

This signalled a stop, he supposed.

“What’s wrong with going this fast?” Felix asked, glancing up at Sylvain for the first time since they’d gotten arm in arm. “It’s not as stuffy and—”

“Boring? Yeah, that’s because you’re doing a rotary waltz. The White Heron Cup wants you to slow waltz, Felix.”

“What’s the _difference_?” Felix’s nose wrinkled in annoyance.

“Rotary waltzes, what you’re doing right now, are just constant turns. It requires much more advanced stepwork and practice. What the judges want to see are the steps forward and behind too, followed by the turns.”

Smirking, Felix did something of a jive in Sylvain’s arms, probably entirely by accident. He was getting carried away.

“What’s wrong with doing extra? Doesn’t that make me better than the other competitors?”

_Goddess_, he looked so cute Sylvain wanted to kiss him right then and there. Minding his thoughts, Sylvain gaped up at the absent ceiling and sighed with a smile.

“It doesn’t work that way. You’re just going to have to learn how to move slower. I get that for you that’s hard, but _try_ to be gentle?”

That was truly asking the impossible of Felix, his face returning to its typical stony etching. It was worth an attempt though, if nothing else, because then the future duke did something unexpected—cleared his throat, readjusted his footing and kept his head down low.

“Let’s try again, then.”

A beat.

“We’ve gotta get this right.”

Oh, if Felix hadn’t realized how endearing he’d been just now, Sylvain wasn’t going to point it out. His heart pulsed and wrung itself out in his chest, making Sylvain’s mouth go dry as he swung Felix into the steps again.

It started without passion. Felix’s legs moved like unoiled gears, clinical and bricky. The pace was all Sylvain had wanted to focus on. The smoothness of the motion would come later. Heels clicking and turning, carrying one another and twisting, they made the training grounds their own private ballroom in the middle of the night. Sylvain’s chin rested at the crown of Felix’s head.

The jostle of their chests against each other’s, the upheaval of their heart rates, the consistent echoing of their breaths… 

Sylvain pecked at Felix’s hair line without warning, a perfunctory gesture as Felix unraveled like a warm spring in his arms.

Then they both stopped.

“_What was that_?”

Shrugging it off as if he’d not just fucked up, not just done what he swore to himself that he’d not go and do, Sylvain said sly and slow, like a liar: “it was a kiss to calm you down.”

Felix didn’t say a word.

“I mean, you started to relax and slow down so I—”

Returning the spirit, Felix’s lips smudged the wet skin of Sylvain’s throat making his Adam's apple bob, and the tension ran a hundred degrees hotter, tempered by the frigid midnight air.

They walked a tenuous tight-rope, their bodies continuing to rock into one another without another word spoken. Sylvain sucked in a helpless breath. _What was this_? Had Felix really settled with that crackpot excuse or… 

Maybe it didn’t matter. Maybe they were just dancing now. Their clammy palms kneaded into each others with fervor. Felix’s fingernails clipped into the back of Sylvain’s uniform, pulling into a subtle drag. Sylvain’s hand spread open enough to envelope so much of Felix’s back. He dipped him low beneath the moonlight.

And they waltzed.


End file.
